


Scary Love

by lookingforatardis, NiciJones



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Beautiful Boy shooting, Discussion of Adultery, Feelings, Hospitalization, Hospitals, M/M, hahaha do you know us?, lots of feelings, talk about weight, underweight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2020-11-22 02:50:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 22,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20867000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lookingforatardis/pseuds/lookingforatardis, https://archiveofourown.org/users/NiciJones/pseuds/NiciJones
Summary: During the shooting of Beautiful Boy, Timmy passes out and is brought into the hospital. With his whole family on the other side of the country, his emergency contact in the city is Armie.The taste of loss makes them talk about things they hadn't ever said aloud before.





	1. No one has ever cared for me

**Author's Note:**

> Uh hi? We are back with something new? This took forever to edit compared to the speed at which we wrote it. We hope you like it! It really was written for us to stretch our fingers a little but maybe you can enjoy it as a little goodie. - N

When Timmy blinks his eyes open, his body feels like a dead weight. A dead weight he's strapped to no matter how hard he fights against it. The light is way too bright and the white ceiling isn't helping so he quickly squeezes his eyes shut again. Everything hurts. Wait, wait. Wasn't he filming? Didn't he have a take to complete? Did he fall asleep? He knows, he knows he hasn’t been as well lately. He'd pushed and pushed his body. But he needs to, for the performance. The better he understands, the better he is going to portray what his character is going through.  
He'd never say he understands but he does his best to make it a true performance. That's how he works. So why, why is he somewhere inside, somewhere bright with white walls...  
"Mr Chalamet? Mr Chalamet, are you able to understand me? I am Doctor Fletcher and I am the one who is treating you. Can you open your eyes for me?"  
Timmy groans. He'd really rather not.  
"You were brought into the hospital after passing out during filming on set. Dehydrated, malnourished and with a severe case of hypothermia and the potential to develop pneumonia. Are you following?"  
Hospital. Fuck. He'd fucked up. Schedules, plans, everything. How long until they would be back on track? He does blink his eyes open then, seeing the doctor sitting at his bedside. He can still feel the dizziness in his bones but he mostly feels disappointed in himself. He'd thrown himself headfirst into his work but it seems like he even fails at that these days.  
"We have informed your emergency contact." The doctor says softly, probably hoping to soothe whatever distress he suspected Timmy is going through.  
It takes Timmy a second to understand what he means. His whole family is in New York and the only family he has in LA is... Armie.

The kids had been acting up all day; Armie and Elizabeth had tag-teamed the best they could, but eventually enlisted the help of friends to keep them entertained. Armie had felt exhausted when it happened, the kids yelling at a park in the background, the phone clutched to Armie's ear with, "Yeah? This is him, I'm sorry I can't hear, can you wait two seconds," before everything shifted on its axis, his blood running cold with sinking dread, nausea pulling at his chest and throat. "Are you sure?" he'd asked. "Is he, is he okay—can I see him?" He felt manic, not even realizing he was gathering things, dropping keys with his shaky hands. Elizabeth asked before he'd hung up and he simply said, "_Timmy_," as if that was all she needed before he was on his way.  
It took too long to get to him, and honestly, he wasn't sure he even heard the guy on the phone correctly—he'd said he was okay, right? Armie only remembered _hospital_ and _unconscious_.  
He barrels in through the doors, frantic and throwing out words like party favors as he searches for Timmy. "Sir, you need to calm down. What's the name?"  
"Timothee Chalamet, Timmy," Armie repeats, his heart thudding painfully in his chest. "Just, they said he was here, I'm his emergency contact—please!"  
"He's the second door down that hall," he's told, his body already following the order before it processes. He isn't sure what to expect. Would Timmy even be awake? Had he been hurt? Why was he even here—the anxiety starts building in Armie's mind until he's shoving his way into the hospital room through the heavy set door.  
The relief of seeing Timmy is immediate, Armie didn’t even realize how desperate he'd been to see his face, his eyes until the second he's there, living, breathing, _awake_. "Oh my god," Armie stutters out, his body shaking. "Hi. _Shit_." He isn't sure what to do—does he go to him? Is that allowed? His body carries him closer. Only then does he realize they're not alone, that the doctor lingers near Timmy's bed.

Timmy turns his head to the door immediately as it springs open; it brings back memories of the first time they had met when Armie had also burst through the door. It had been for entirely different reasons though. Timmy immediately feels sorry for making Armie rush out here. What about the kids? It's not like he was going anywhere and whatever they told him was probably a lot worse than what had actually happened, judging by the pale and scared expression on his face.  
Armie doesn't wear his heart on his sleeve, and to see an emotion written so plainly across his face always makes Timmy's alarm bells ring.  
"Hey." He says and forces himself to smile, to reassure him. After all the first real thing he's said so far has been 'shit'.  
"Mr Hammer," Dr Fletcher interrupts Timmy before he can manage the strength to say something more and it makes him frown. "Mr Chalamet is stable so far. I was just explaining to him that he suffered a severe case of hypothermia. There's also a potential that he could develop pneumonia, so we would like to keep him here for the night. Just to make sure he'll get better, and not worse."

Armie can't tear his eyes away from Timmy even as he's being spoken to. He scans him, searches for signs of harm, his mouth dry and eyes a little too watery for comfort. He pulls at his hair and lets out a stuttered breath, his mind playing catchup. "What the hell does that mean—why did he get hypothermia?" He glances at the doctor who exchanges a look with Timmy briefly.  
"It's a result of a number of factors relating to his current health and the situation of his scenes he had been shooting today. I assure you that it's under control, we just need to monitor him to see to it that he improves." Armie shakes his head, looks back at Timmy.  
"Are you okay?" he all but begs for an answer, bypassing the doctor to sit in the chair next to Timmy. He looks pale but alert. Armie tries not to notice the extra blankets stacked on him but fails. He was always cold. So damn cold. Armie bites back a wave of emotion and leans forward with his elbows on his knees. "Don't lie to me, please," he adds.

There's an overwhelming sense of vulnerability in his voice that almost tears Timmy apart. He had no reason to worry like that about him. No, he had no right. It's Timmy's decision and Timmy's alone, and Felix had asked him, had wanted more so he'd given more—Timmy stops himself when he feels his thoughts spiralling again. He needs to focus, needs to convince Armie he's okay because he is! He really is!  
"You know I couldn't—even if I tried." He tries to joke but the delivery is slow, his voice too weak to distract Armie from what's really going on here. "I am okay, you heard him. I am okay, Armie." He deliberately searches for his gaze now, tries to communicate like this instead. Armie's blue, blue eyes that Timmy knows so well are wide with worry, almost panic and it makes his chest ache even more to know he put that look there.

Armie's jaw clenches to stop himself from reacting too heavily. _He sounds off_, is all Armie can think. Sounds tired. But then, hadn't Armie commented as much just the night before? Told Timmy to remember to take care of himself, too? He knows Timmy is trying to calm him, but he can't stop himself from feeling completely helpless. "Okay," he mutters, not entirely believing Timmy but also not wanting to get into it with an audience, or while Timmy is clearly recovering.  
Armie nods slowly to reassure himself with it as his reply hangs in the air, telling himself that Timmy's right. He's okay. Surely he's okay, he's right here after all. After only a moment, the worry returns and Armie can't quite help himself—he needs something, anything tangible. He reaches out and presses his hand against Timmy's cheek before slipping his fingers into his hair, soothing it down with a forced smile and a small sniffle. He can't verbalize what he's feeling, the panic and lingering anxiety at losing him.

Timmy's eyes instinctively slip shut before they flit over to the doctor. Timmy has been avoiding Armie's touches for awhile now, especially in front of others. The doctor averts his gaze though, stands up, pretends to smooth down his white coat. Timmy takes that precious moment to lean into Armie's touch.  
Despite having withdrawn from it—or perhaps because of it—he feels himself craving it even more with every second it lasts. He can only breathe again after Armie pulls back, obviously catching onto what had just been happening. Timmy wasn't sure if he noticed, if he had cared at all that at one point, Timmy had stopped with the casual, thoughtless touch he usually handed out so carelessly.  
He knew though that Armie had quietly accepted it for the past week, had slowly stopped himself from initiating them at all.  
"Well, Mr. Chalamet needs to rest, but you may stay here until dinner is served." The doctor says, clears his throat. "And I will set up an appointment for a nutrient counselling to get Mr Chalamet back on track. He is too underweight for the strain he puts on his body." Dr Fletcher says before finally leaving them alone.  
He has no idea, Timmy thinks. Acting is hard, it comes at a price. A price he is willing to pay.

Armie's hand buzzes with energy as he rests it in his lap palm up, his gaze flickering back over to the doctor with a nod to acknowledge what he said. He watches him leave and lets out a breath before turning to look at Timmy again, somewhat afraid of what he might find in his eyes. He knew he'd been suffering lately more so than usual. He could see it in the way he didn't want to hang out as much after coming home, noticed the way he withdrew a little more every day. Armie hadn't let it get to him at first, convinced that it was just part of this role and it would get better. But the more time that passed with Timmy shrinking away—both literally and figuratively—left Armie with a sick stomach.  
Even now, Armie feels his hesitation to talk, to let Armie in. He itches to reach out again, knots his hands together to stop from stealing one more touch he isn't sure will be appreciated. "You're scaring me," he confesses, uncertain of what else to say. He traces lines over Timmy's face and body with his eyes, wishing he could pull him into his arms and hold him—anything to feel him sturdy and safe.

It's not what Timmy had expected to hear at all. He _scares_ Armie? He can see the tied up nervousness that he is barely able to contain but does anyway. He knows—he knows Armie. They’ve known each other ever since they bared their souls in front of each other in that small Italian town. And now that ghost haunts them, haunts Timmy.  
He squeezes his eyes shut. He doesn't want to think of Crema, of easy smiles and easier touches. Of so much skin and so little boundaries.  
"Why?" He forces himself to say in the end, opening his eyes to look at Armie again, no matter how hard it is. His throat is still very dry and even though there's an infusion pumping his body full of nutrients and much needed fluids, he craves the sensation of a gulp of cool water. "I’m just doing my job, Armie. You know there are hard days, especially at this early stage."

Armie shakes his head slightly and has to turn away, physically stand and put some distance between them before he crosses some line he doesn't really remember agreeing to draw. Timmy had always been so open with him, with _everyone_ really. He was always the one that made it okay for Armie to do the same. There was a point with this film where he worried they would get too close with all the time they logged together, but lately, the pounds slipped off Tim's body and with them, the easy connection Armie had grown to expect. Now, in a room where Timmy can't leave, he has to remind himself that he has bigger problems than the unease he feels as Timmy draws away from him. Much bigger problems. He paces only for a moment before finding his voice. "That's bullshit. He's going to kill you, this isn't—you shouldn't—" He catches himself but only barely. "Jesus Christ, Timmy. We're in a hospital! This isn't just a hard day."

Timmy is surprised he doesn't flinch at the sudden, intense raise of voice. But apparently his body is too exhausted to even do that. Too exhausted to deal with Armie's expression, too exhausted to put on the masks he has been starting to put on ever since filming started.  
So Timmy just shrugs, looks away from the accusing look in Armie's eyes, and calls him out on his bullshit. "He's not killing me, Armie. He's not doing anything to me. I mean, he asked me to but it's my job and—" This time he does flinch when Armie's fist connects with the table near the window.  
Timmy lets out a stuttering breath, can feel the sudden adrenaline rush waft through his body before it leaves him dizzier than before.  
It's not like he wants Armie to be angry at him. He doesn't want to make him worry or panic or cause him to hit innocent furniture. Exhaustion takes its toll on him and tears spring into his eyes. Tears he also doesn't want.  
"I'm sorry." He whispers, voice choked up.

"You're slipping away," Armie can't help but say, bitter and terrified when he looks back to see the tears spilling over on Timmy's cheeks. "I know you think this is your job but..." He breathes out and tries to reign in his anger and frustration, tries to remind himself that it's Felix he should be upset with, not Timmy.   
When the tears don't stop and Timmy does nothing to wipe them away, a piece of Armie's heart breaks off in his chest and he steps forward to go to him before stopping, his hands in fists at his sides. He can see the day wearing on Timmy and wants nothing more than to take it all away and help. He's just afraid he won't be the one Timmy wants at his side.   
Instead of following every nerve ending in his body telling him to go towards Timmy, Armie just stands there staring, trying to figure out a way to stop the sharp ache in his chest from spreading. "I want to help you," he says softly, terrified of being rejected but too tired of letting Timmy go to not say anything now when it feels important that he says _something_.

Armie is right of course and at the same time, he is terribly, terribly wrong. Of course, it had been the plan to slip away, to dodge some feelings if not all of them. And while physically that's what he had been displaying, he had yet to feel different, yet to see the strings disentangle that are binding him to Armie.  
But Armie is here now, he wants to help Timmy now and Timmy isn't sure that he can deny him this. Not when he feels so weak, when he isn't even sure anymore if he _really_ wants this, when doubts are creeping into his head about everything. Why put yourself through such torture—why not have one more meal, why not clear that plate, why not allow Armie, allow him to take everything Timmy had to give?  
He can't bring himself to say it though, can't admit his caving out loud. But he knows, he _hopes_—if there's one person then it's Armie—that he'd understand without Timmy having to say it.  
Everything just feels overwhelming right now and his parents are so far away and he just needs to be hugged and told that everything is going to be okay again. Wordlessly, he lifts his hand, reaching out to Armie. A silent plea.

The air spills out of Armie's lungs at the tiny gesture; Timmy might as well be moving mountains for the feeling that overwhelms Armie. He doesn't hesitate when he goes to his bedside at the wordless acceptance of Armie's presence.   
Only once he's standing there can he really see the war happening on Timmy's face, not quite concealed well enough, and it shatters him. He takes Timmy's hand in his and lifts it to his lips, the back of his hand chill when he presses a brief kiss to the skin. He sits down at the edge of the bed and contemplates if Timmy would allow him to hold him under the blankets, if it was okay for him to slip into his bed that likely wouldn't even fit him.   
He wants to suddenly, the need to wrap Timmy up in his arms overwhelming and pressing. He shifts slightly and leans down, wraps an arm around Timmy's back while the other gently pulls him towards his chest in an awkward but effective hug that only starts to ease the pressure in Armie's chest. The hospital gown does nothing to hide the feel of Timmy's spine under Armie's palm and it makes him hold him closer, press his eyes closed, breathe deeply.

Armie is so _warm_ and now he’s everywhere, wrapped all around him like a cocoon of safety, keeping all the worries out. He hadn’t even noticed that he was cold until he feels Armie’s warmth and it feels so good. He fists his hands in Armie’s shirt, desperately holds onto him like he might vanish anytime. Faintly he’s aware that he’s sobbing, that he’s shaking in Armie’s arms but that doesn’t matter. Because there’s no place he’d rather be and no one he’d rather be with.

Armie can hardly breathe, just knows he has to keep it together to hold Timmy in his arms. A particularly hard sob pulls its way through Timmy and Armie can't stop himself from shifting his body.   
"Hang on, let me in," he mumbles, pulling back just enough to shuck off his shoes and crawl onto the bed before pulling Timmy back against his chest with the blankets there to help warm him. There's something brutal about the way he clings to Armie, the sort of desperation seeping deep into Armie's bones and resonating only as the thought: _he needed you and it took this long for you to do something_.   
He rubs his back and presses a kiss against the top of his head, willing himself to believe it would be okay. "Shh, I've got you. You're safe," he whispers, a little nervous. Adrenaline was still coursing through him from finding out Timmy was hospitalized, coupled now with the sadness and confusion he feels while realizing just how much he'd missed Timmy's touch.

Timmy can slowly feel the warmth seep into his body. He hadn't even noticed how permanently it had taken place in his body, just how deep it went. It's like he's melting under Armie's sun now.  
For awhile Timmy is only focused on letting the pain drain out of him but soon the sobbing takes its toll on his exhausted body and the tears become less and less until they eventually let up, leaving behind an even more exhausted Timmy. "I'm sorry," he mumbles, even as his eyes keep slipping shut.   
But it's important that Armie knows. "I didn't want to burden you with anything. I didn't want to burden anyone. I just wanted to do a good job and be a good friend and not get in anyone's way." Timmy sniffles and readjusts his head. He left a big wet stain on Armie's shirt and he feels bad for that, too.

Armie can only hold him closer, card his fingers through Timmy's hair. What do you say when the one person you can't bear to hide from has been hiding from you? It's uncharted territory for Armie, and Timmy's quiet confession unsettles him.   
How could he still not know, Armie wonders? How could he still doubt how badly Armie wants to be there for him through _everything_, that part of why he insisted he stay with them was so he _could_ be there, knowing Timmy would push himself too far. It's almost too much.   
Armie tucks the blanket closer around Timmy's shoulders and lets out a deep sigh. "You have to know that you're not a burden. You never have been and never will be. The burden is knowing you're hurting and shutting me out." He hopes he understands, presses his cheek against Timmy's curls, ignores how his arms wrap around Timmy's thin body too easily.

"I'm sorry." Timmy mumbles and it seems like the only thing he's capable of saying at this point. "I'll stop, I promise." It's not like he wanted to push Armie away, and right now with his fingers dancing over Timmy's back, it's particularly hard to remember why he had done it in the first place. And Timmy is so, so tired. His eyes have long ago slipped shut and he just needs to recharge in this safe space he has found here.   
"Hey Armie," he mumbles, "don't let me go, okay?" He doesn't want to be alone right now, it would mean facing the consequences of what he has done and he doesn't feel ready for that. He just needs to be allowed to be Timmy for awhile, Armie's Timmy from Italy.

In an instant, Armie feels the gravity of the moment push him down into the bed, into the sterile air of the room. His arms feel heavy around Timmy, the words floating between them, dense with double meanings Armie isn't certain he’s ready to examine.   
Timmy asking for this is a step up though, and Armie knows to take the victories when they come. All he knows in this moment is how desperately he needs Timmy to be safe, how protective he feels in a way he hasn't with Timmy before.   
"I'm not going anywhere," he says, voice sure of this at least. "I'm exactly where I need to be." As Timmy relaxes against him, he begins registering fully what Timmy's said, that he won't shut Armie out anymore. Somewhere in the back of his mind, as he runs circles against Timmy's shoulder blades, he wonders if it had been intentional or not to keep him at arms length.

Timmy's breath rushes out of him and relief settles in his bones. Armie's words make him snuggle impossibly closer, breathing in his the smell he knows so well. There will be a time for questions and there will be a time to answer them. But right now is the time when everything is perfect and Timmy can slip into sleep, pretending that they aren’t lying in a blank hospital room, but in Armie's flat in Crema, and tomorrow is going to be another day with another excuse to put lips where they want to wander.

Armie had been in his fair share of hospital rooms over the years, some his and some not. None had ever quite felt so disruptive as this, though. He feels Timmy's breathing even out and knows he's asleep, knows this is the first time in a long time that they have allowed themselves this luxury of comfort through physical vulnerability with each other. Everything feels different with Timmy asleep in his arms—the light streaming in is subtle with the evening hour, but still too bright; the machines connected to Timmy too white and cold; the blankets generic and almost scratchy. Timmy sighs in his sleep and nuzzles closer to Armie, the movement so innocent it takes Armie's breath away. Carefully, he reaches up to push his hair back, strokes a finger over his temple and cheek. How did they get here, he wonders? How did they let themselves drift so far that this is somehow new again, all the while maintaining their friendship?

Timmy's dream is filled with warmth, which is ironic because he knows where he is and he knows that he had spent most days wrapped in sweaters and sweatpants, always looking for ways to steal warmth. But he doesn't have to right now because he lights up with every touch Armie extends to him, every touch he steals for himself. They are in the villa, the old, majestic house which bears so many secrets, some of which Timmy and Armie had placed there themselves. Unlike most days, he can't find any cameras or crew. Not even Luca which would normally sadden him, but then Armie reaches out again, sends another spike of warmth through his body.  
Armie's laughing and Timmy doesn't remember why but he joins in, breathless, worriless bursts of laughter until they fall against each other, naturally, instinctively. It's the closest thing to total bliss Timmy has ever felt.

Occasionally, Timmy shivers or shifts in his sleep and Armie's grip tightens to compensate. Time passes, a nurse walking in eventually to check in. She sees the two wrapped up in each other and for a heart stopping moment, Armie worries how this must look. She seems startled but says nothing to make Armie feel as though this would end up on gossip sites somewhere, so he considers that a win. She tells him she'll be back later, that it's good Timmy’s resting, and smiles before leaving.  
It almost makes Armie second guess his position—was this inappropriate?—but then again, it felt painfully normal for Timmy to be asleep in his embrace. He writes it off as just one of those things that makes Timmy different from his other friends and snuggles a little closer to him. In the silence, it's hard to ignore the thoughts in his head telling him that something else is happening between them, that this isn't the reaction he would have had if any of his other friends had been hospitalized, not even close. He understands he'll have to face this sooner or later, the voice in his head telling him to run, and the one telling him to stay.

Crema is in many ways Timmy's happy place. This, them, breathless and happy, are some of the reasons why. He can feel Armie's hand brush over his back momentarily before it's gone and before he's gone. For a moment Timmy is disoriented like a compass that has lost its north, but then he sees him dart out of the room, laughter leading the way.  
Timmy, not one to say no to such a challenge, rushes after him, calling Armie's name because he can, because no one would care. He bounds up the stairs and catches Armie in the hallway, jumping on his back and holding on. More laughter, more warmth, Armie's hands catching his arms. Timmy feels light.

Eventually, Armie's phone buzzes with a text from Elizabeth and he carefully disentangles himself enough to reach for it in his pocket. He wraps his arm back around Timmy and reads the text over his shoulder, carefully tries to tap out a reply one handed that Timmy was alright but he wasn't sure when they would be home. Only after hitting send does he realize he's established he won’t truly go home without Timmy, and knows it couldn't be more true. He slips his phone back into his pocket and adjusts their bodies to make sure none of the chords are tangled. For a moment, he allows his gaze to drift to Timmy's chest where small sensors are placed on his skin under the thin gown. He follows the lines of the chords up to the machines, watches his heart beat on the monitor. Suddenly, he feels an overwhelming sense of love for Timmy out of nowhere, the sort of fierce and desperate kind that makes him want to cry. He thinks back to earlier when he got the call, how his entire world stopped spinning, how nothing mattered in those moments except getting to him, seeing him, making sure he was okay. A bit bleary eyed, he watches Timmy sleep and feels helpless to his own heart, to the way it aches in an unfamiliar way.

In Timmy’s dream, they stumble into Oliver's bedroom which is also Elio's bedroom which is also their bedroom. Timmy slips off Armie's back but they never stop touching, Armie turning around, wide grin on his face, pulling Timmy along as much as Timmy is pushing him on. Timmy loves that expression on his face, wishes it's what he would always see, knows he doesn't see it nearly often enough.  
The back of Armie's knees connect with the edge of the bed and he sits down without even tearing his eyes off Timmy. He's not sure whether it's because he likes looking at Timmy so much or because he knows this room inside out. But Timmy can read in his eyes, knows Armie knows Timmy knows what he wants and it makes his grin turn a little smug.  
It's as natural as the flow of a running river to settle on his lap and bring their lips together—

A soft noise from Timmy in the hospital room halts Armie's internal struggle to understand the layers of what he's feeling and why he's feeling it all now. He searches Timmy's sleeping face, his chords, looking for some sign of duress at the sound. He glances up at the monitor and sees a slight spike in his heart rate but nothing too unusual, nothing to cause alarm. Armie looks back at the peaceful look on Timmy's face and decides it must be nothing, and with that places his hand on his cheek in some attempt to gently reach through to him and reassure him that he's not alone. No, he wouldn't let that happen. Timmy would never be alone.

Timmy hums into Armie's mouth. Where before this dream had been filled with warmth, it’s nothing compared to the heat that fills him now. It starts at his lips and then slowly fills his entire body. Armie's hands coming up to hold his face between them isn't helping. Timmy's sweating now and he almost pulls back to take his shirt off but then decides against it, unwilling to abandon Armie's mouth. So they continue to make out without any perception of time, just the heat wafting between their bodies. At one point, Armie falls back into the sheets, pulling Timmy down on top of him but he couldn't say if it was before or after he had shoved his hand under Armie's shirt against his chest, his touch half admiring, half explorative.

Armie smiles softly when he feels Timmy shift closer, assuming he's just seeking him in his sleep for warmth. Even with the thoughts spinning around in his mind of what this is between them, it all boils down to this: Timmy is a part of him, plain and simple. And seeing him finally allow Armie to be there for him, to support him, helps Armie feel a little more balanced. Content, he lets his gaze wander again around the room, his hand slipping under the covers to trace over Timmy's back. It's still him, he thinks, just a little thinner. Still his Timmy, a warming thought in and of itself. Minutes may pass, or merely seconds—he doesn't know. His mind wanders and wanders, takes him down paths of memories with Timmy and worries that this intensity he's showing with this role will drain him if he isn't careful. Just as Armie is vowing to himself to do what he needs to do to make sure this sudden closeness between them doesn't disappear (surely, he thinks, he can help ground Timmy), he starts feeling unusually warm. With a glance at Timmy, he notices he looks flushed, his skin warm to the touch when Armie brushes his fingers over his forehead. He wonders if he should give him space, but the second he inches away, Timmy makes a noise and, interpreting it as an objection, Armie caves and remains where he was, opting instead to gently toss a few extra blankets off of their bodies.

Their kisses become somewhat sloppier, their skin sticky with sweat. This time Timmy does pull away and toss his shirt on the floor. He feels a little better and promptly resumes his task at hand. This time his mouth finds Armie's neck, his teeth teasingly nipping there. Armie moans and it sends fire down to Timmy's groin. Whatever relief he had gained by pulling his shirt off, it has vanished completely. Distractedly, he pushes his hair out of his face that's sticking to his forehead and takes a deep breath but it doesn't help.  
"Give me a second," he mumbles and gets off to undress completely but it doesn't help. He can feel the heat pulsing around him.  
He looks up to see whether Armie is noticing anything off about him but instead the wardrobe catches his gaze. It's on fire. It's only then that Timmy realises that _everything_ is on fire. Panic sets in immediately, making his limbs heavy and difficult to move. "Armie!" He screams, tries to pull him off the bed, but when he blinks Armie is on fire as well, his eyes mere black holes and his skin littered with burns.  
"What, Timmy? What is it?" Armie asks and sounds entirely emotionless.  
Timmy _screams_.

The sound nearly knocks Armie off the bed, adrenaline shooting through him for the second time of the day. "Timmy! Timmy, _wake up_!" he shouts, shaking his body with anxious hands. "It's a dream, wake up." His voice doesn't sound like his own but all he can focus on is the sweat gathering on Timmy's forehead, the panic in his eyes when they blink open, how they fill almost immediately with moisture. "Hey, hey I'm here. I'm here, it was a dream. You were just dreaming," he tells him, hands framing his face to get him to focus on his voice, his presence. He wills him to meet his eyes and see there's no harm, that he's safe and nothing is going to happen to him. Timmy clutches at one of Armie's wrists and the sheer fear he finds in Timmy's lingering dream-state makes him feel completely out of his depth.

Timmy blinks, his vision blurry but Armie is there and he's fine, he's alright, he's not burning. He forces himself to draw in a ragged breath, the relief flooding him quick and intense. "Armie." He mumbles and despite still feeling hot, presses closer, mindlessly searching contact with the dream still fresh in his memory. His lips brush the corner of Armie's mouth so he turns his head a little, presses a peck to his lips instead. More than anything else, it assures him of Armie's presence, his brain not caught up enough to register the difference between dream and reality.

Armie blinks rapidly, a little startled at the contact before his eyes slip shut briefly with a shaky breath as Timmy pulls away. His lips burn as he watches Timmy start to come back to himself the tiniest bit. "Yeah, it's me. I'm right here," he murmurs, hand resting against Timmy's cheek still. Internally, he begins panicking for an entirely _different_ reason. He missed something, he thinks. Had he missed something? Was this normal, had it happened before? He thinks back to the weeks following Crema, how Timmy would call him when he'd wake up from nightmares or when sleep evaded him—somewhere in his mind, Armie had always wondered if the dreams had been about _him_, about their time together too short lived and that's why he was always Timmy's first call. Now, he feels Timmy lingering everywhere. He remembers him clinging to him in his sleep, relives the screaming, the kiss. He feels dizzy, a bit scared that Timmy was going through much more than he'd feared if he somehow forgot that this wasn't—  
Wasn't what? Armie swallows hard, his hand retreating from Timmy's cheek quickly. This wasn't Crema. This wasn't their reality, they didn't just lay in bed and kiss and hold each other.

Timmy feels his face heat up even more as his brain starts to catch up. Right, this isn’t really them, the dream hadn’t been real. The kiss _and_ the burning. Embarrassed he pulls away, hides his face behind his hands. “Oh god, I’m sorry, Armie. I shouldn’t have done that—I just—I dunno—I’m so sorry, I know we aren’t- we don’t- I didn’t mean to-“ he’s babbling hoping that amongst them he finds the words to make Armie forget when in reality his touch still lingers on his lips, the haunting touch of Armie’s scruff against Timmy’s clean skin exciting him in ways it shouldn’t.  
Nervously he draws his bottom lip between his teeth before his tongue remembers to chase his touch.  
He sighs, letting his lip go and squeezing his eyes shut. He needs to stop. Quickly. Armie is right there.

"Hey, it's... it's okay," Armie tells him, shifting back on the bed slightly. He isn't sure who he's trying to convince, though. "You're kind of out of it, you don't have to explain." But then, Armie _wants_ an explanation to somehow settle the growing unease he feels. Suddenly the bed is too small and Timmy too warm and close and he's far too aware of everything that's going on outside the walls of this room and this moment. Somewhat reluctantly he sits up and adjusts so the blankets fall off of his body. "Do you need some water or something? I can get a nurse if you want me to."

Mostly Timmy needs Armie to stay but his throat is dry and Timmy can sense Armie’s unease in the moment, better than anyone else could. The rigid line of his back, the way his eyes don’t quite meet Timmy’s. It makes his stomach clench with fear. What if it stays, what if Armie is going to be awkward with him now? There’s nothing he can do about it right now, though.  
“A water would be nice, yes.” He mumbles, pulling his legs up to trap the warmth Armie’s body had left behind.  
He feels very small suddenly, becoming aware of how frail his limbs truly are. Somehow he feels defenceless against his own emotions like this and the ones he can sense from Armie.

Armie nods once and makes a move to leave, pausing when he sees Timmy pull in on himself. He feels some sort of responsibility in this moment to fix whatever has just happened, whatever shift has occurred. His glance lingers for just a moment, his heart clenching knowing he can't really do anything about this without figuring his own shit out and trying to understand what all of this means. He reaches out and squeezes Timmy's arm to offer some sort of conciliatory form of comfort before turning and putting his shoes back on to walk out.  
He doesn't look back, simply closes the door quietly and takes a deep breath while resting against the wall. He knows they need to talk about a lot of things, this just being another to add to the list. Still, he wishes it were easy and wonders if it had ever been easy, or if there was always some question left unanswered between them. The nurse from before walks past him and he flags her down, walks with her to get Timmy some water, and explains he had a nightmare of some kind and was awake now. She leads the way back into the room and gives Timmy the water, checks his vitals, asks him how he's feeling. Armie isn't sure what to do, so he lingers near the bed, body resting against the wall as he sneaks glances at Timmy to see if he's okay.

The presence of a stranger is somewhat overwhelming. He had just wanted Armie to come back with a glass of water and snuggle into the sheets again, but instead he has to try to stay composed and make himself listen to what the nurse is saying. It turns out to be quite the struggle with Armie lingering at the edge of his vision.  
He just wants to explain it away, needs to see Armie is okay with him. Who cares about his fucking vitals when Armie is still wearing that expression on his face. He almost says as much and only blinks back into focus when he realises she asked him how he was feeling.  
"'M good." He mumbles distractedly, wanting her to leave them to talk as soon as possible. She mentions how Armie had told her that he had a dream and Timmy feels an irrational spike of betrayal that Armie just shared that with a stranger. It doesn't make any sense, Armie doesn't even know what happened in the dream.  
It's even worse when she asks him whether he wants to talk about it. "No!" It comes way too desperately and he quickly tries to smooth the hard edge. "It was—pretty vivid and it scared me. Nothing that doesn't happen to anyone now and then," he throws in and tries to turn everything that is left of his charm on her.  
He's not sure whether he's successful or she just takes pity on him, but she accepts his answer and leaves them alone.  
The glass of water is taunting Timmy from where it's standing on his nightstand. He needs to gather the energy to sit up first but he determinedly pushing himself up. The strain on his arms makes them shake. Timmy immediately feels embarrassed by that display of weakness.

Armie watches all of this with nervous curiosity. Timmy seems to shift through dozens of emotions, each one not quite what Armie anticipates. When the nurse finally leaves, he smiles and thanks her before turning back to look at Timmy, noticing him struggling a bit. "Here," he offers, going towards him to adjust the bed so he's in a semi-seated position before bringing the water to him, his free hand cupping over Timmy's as he guides the plastic cup into his grip. He sits at the edge of his bed carefully, telling himself he's being irrational for second guessing whether or not he should do so. This is still Timmy, he reminds himself. Nothing had really changed, a little kiss doesn't just shift everything you know about someone. "She asked if you were feeling well," he says quietly, remembering the scrunched forehead Timmy had when she had asked about his dream. "I didn't know what to say. I mentioned the dream because..." He lets out a breath and looks around the room. "Frankly, because it seemed like something I should mention. You're obviously going through something right now."

Timmy eagerly gulps down the cool water. It feels wonderful on his rough throat and gives him an excuse not to answer right away. Armie clearly worries, he knows Armie meant well when he had told the nurse. And he's not wrong. Timmy is going through something, has been ever since he had come back from Italy and tried to find out how to continue to live life as it was before.  
It isn't surprising that the dream had led him away from his misery and into the villa, their safe space. It isn't even surprising that he had kissed Armie in that dream—it had happened so often that he stopped freaking out about it. At first, he had assigned it to character bleed, your brain knows your are acting but your body doesn't and by that extent your subconscious. But it had stayed. So Timmy accepted it as a part of Elio that he had taken with him and that had been that. Of course, the fire isn't usually part of it. He has no idea where that had come from so suddenly, but he knows without a doubt that if their roles were reversed, he would have freaked out just like Armie did. And Armie would have fought his care off just as well. Probably even more than Timmy.  
He twists the empty cup between his fingers, clears his throat. He knows he has to validate Armie's worries without making him worry more. Frankly, telling someone sounds like a good idea. He just couldn't share every detail with Armie. "We were in the villa. You and me. But everything was on fire. You were on fire." Timmy explains quietly. "I dream of Crema, sometimes. But it usually isn't like this."

Armie listens carefully, trying to process not only the words but also Timmy's shy movements. Hearing that the dream had involved him shakes Armie a little and he wonders if it's just because Timmy had fallen asleep in his arms. He glances at Timmy, sees him avoiding eye contact, and isn't so sure.  
"Why were we on fire? What does normally happen?" Armie asks, resting a tentative hand on Timmy's knee in an attempt to calm him.

Timmy shrugs, eyes fixating on Armie's hand on his knee. It feels warm, warmer than it should. He fights the urge to twitch away. Somehow the touch paired with the memories is overwhelming when he tries to sort through the vast number of dreams that he remembers to find something he could tell Armie. "It's just us in Crema or on any of the locations. Usually we aren't filming, just hanging out or whatever."  
Timmy hates lying and he's pretty sure he isn't very good at it either. Putting the empty cup back on the nightstand is a welcome excuse to not meet Armie's eyes. "I don't know where the fire came from. I just felt so warm and—well, when I looked up everything was on fire." He can talk about the fire, there's nothing to hide there. "You, too. Just," Timmy gestures, "completely burnt. No eyes." Timmy shivers as the vivid image appears in his brain again and he pulls the blanket higher like it could protect him.

Something in Timmy's voice alerts Armie to a memory long ago, days after they'd returned from filming, a memory of Timmy trying to convince Armie he was okay when Armie knew for a fact he wasn't. He watches Timmy and tries to decide if it's worth it to push when he's pretty certain he's being lied to. What could make Timmy lie, though? Armie takes a deep breath and goes over what he's already been told to try to figure out why Timmy would hide his dreams. He dreams of Crema, of them in Crema—  
Suddenly, his mouth goes dry at a thought he quickly files away, tells himself there's no way Timmy was lying because he meant he dreams about them like _that_, and struggles to look at Timmy without blushing slightly at his reckless and sudden daydream. _Stop it_, he tells himself. _This is serious_.  
He focuses on other things, things that matter now. Being burned, for example. "I'm sorry... that must have been terrifying, I—" he pauses, lost momentarily thinking about what he would have done if the dream had been him. Talking is difficult suddenly.

"Yeah—" Timmy nods, now trying to hide that the relief. Armie isn't prying further into his dreams. It's just something that happens to Timmy, but he knows that it might appear weird from the outside. It's just character bleed.  
"It was horrible so when I woke up, I was just so relieved to see you and—well I just had to express that somehow. I wasn't fully awake so it just happened. No big deal. It's not like we've never kissed before, right?" Timmy tries to make light of the situation but he isn't sure if it works. He desperately needs Armie to put it behind them though, to treat him like nothing had happened and like Timmy isn't falling apart right now. He just wants things to go back to normal. However, he knows that there hasn't been a normal ever since he came back from Italy.

Armie can tell Timmy's nervous by the way his voice goes up and gaze struggles to meet Armie's. In light of everything else, Armie had almost forgotten the kiss, too consumed with worry for Timmy to linger on it too long. Now, he considers it in all its weight. The way Timmy had barely even looked at him before clinging closer and pressing their lips together, how there was no hesitation, almost as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Armie's certain now what the dream entailed, or at least, he's certain he has a good idea of it, certain it’s not just his own mind willing up possible scenarios. He swallows thickly and contemplates the layers of meaning that sink below the surface of Timmy's inability to sit still now, of his anger—or was it embarrassment—at hearing the nurse mention the dream. A part of Armie knows he should drop it. There wouldn’t be anything productive accomplished from pursuing this line of thought, let alone pursuing it vocally. Yet, as he watches Timmy with every passing moment he doesn't respond, he begins seeing the vulnerability Timmy clearly wants hidden, and it scares him just enough to reach out. He squeezes Timmy's knee and clears his throat. "I don't mind, you know. You don't have to hide from me, I know this is... You're..." he pauses to gather his thoughts more concisely to ensure he doesn't misstep. "This role is taking a toll and I want to be there for you. I think your dream... Maybe you just... craved comfort when you woke up. I'm not mad." He feels his heart racing a little. Is this really what he wants to say?

He doesn't mind? Timmy knows for a moment the shock is displayed on his face, just for a second before his rationality kicks in and he realises Armie can't have meant it like that. Then he realises that there are parts of what Armie said that he does need to worry about, like how he clearly knows that Timmy is hiding something. As long as Armie doesn't ask any further questions it should be okay though, right? What Timmy really wants to focus on is how Armie assures him that he's okay with what happened. Like, Timmy wants him to get over it, yes, to not dwell on it, yes. But this almost, almost sounds like he wouldn't mind if it happened again and surely that isn't what he had meant. No matter how much that makes Timmy's heart race. "You don't mind? Are you sure? I mean, you're right, yeah. I craved comfort but—I _kissed_ you, Armie." Timmy points out, crossing his arms in front of his chest. Armie can't be serious to throw something like this out there, he thinks.

But Armie just scoffs before thinking better of it, mumbling, "I know. I was there." It only takes a second before he backtracks. "I just mean—you know, I know you _kissed me_, why do you think I'd have such a problem with it?" His voice is softer, hoping to lessen any damage his initial response might have caused. "Timmy, you're my best friend. You know I love you. It’s going to take a lot more than a kiss for us to have problems, okay? Don't stress about it, I mean you said yourself it's not like we haven't before." He takes a deep breath, mostly to shut himself up before he truly begins rambling and saying things he shouldn't.

Timmy's heart stumbles dangerously when Armie says _I love you_. He doesn't know if that's what he wants to hear from him, he hasn't figured out what he really feels for Armie and what he wants from him. But he knows these words make him nervous. "Well, as you said we are friends and I shouldn't have. I—uh, yeah. Thanks for being so cool about it. I guess things are a little hard right now and I know you’re always there for me but—" Timmy shrugs again, not entirely sure what's even saying, if he should be saying these things at all. "Guess I am craving a different kind of comfort, you know." He feels his cheeks heat up. He means romantic intimacy, but yes, also sex. It's been too long since he had another naked, sweaty body pressed against his outside of his dream world.

Armie's mind stalls momentarily, his eyes flickering up to Timmy's face. The pink tint of his cheeks warms Armie's as he tries to think of anything but what Timmy just threw out there casually, _too_ casually. "Well I—" He stops himself, swallows and shifts on the bed. "I guess that's understandable," he says, but feels a little breathless suddenly when he remembers the noises Timmy made in his sleep. He shouldn't be thinking about it, he knows he shouldn't. He pulls his palm away from Timmy's knee and scolds himself; he had been so good lately. He hadn't thought about Tim that way in months, had almost convinced himself he'd _never_ thought that way about him. "Was that what it was, the kiss?" He sneaks a peak at Timmy and feels a spike of shame for letting his mind wander even for a moment and wishes he could swallow the words and take them back. Timmy needed support right now, he was in the hospital for god's sake. He didn’t need _this_, whatever it was floating around in Armie's mind like a shot of whiskey.

Timmy looks up at Armie, looks away again, too quickly to have taken his expression in. What was Armie expecting him to say? What would the appropriate thing to say? How much can he say? He vividly remembers his dream, the part before the fire, the languid kiss that wouldn't stop. He needs to get that out of his mind. When he thinks about it, the truth is far more devastating than Timmy being horny. The moment when he woke up, heard the calm timbre of Armie's voice and realised that he's okay—there had been this overwhelming sense of relief that took his breath away. The kiss, however, was an expression of his need to be close to Armie in that moment, share an intimate moment to balance out the horrors of the nightmare.  
"Uh, no? I mean, it wasn't like—" Timmy feels the pressure of having to choose the right words. It feels like he's tip-toeing through a minefield. "I wasn't coming onto you or anything. I just—" _wanted to be close to you_. He can't say that, he can't say anything of what is going through his mind. So he just falls silent, helplessly.

Armie feels like shit instantly. "I shouldn't have asked that, I'm sorry." He grits his teeth a little and forces the slight bitterness of disappointment deep down into his chest. Of course, Timmy didn't mean it like that, Armie feels stupid for even letting the thought creep in. It was innocent. As it should be. Maybe having Timmy around so much is just fucking with his head again, surely that’s the reason Armie can't seem to get a hold of himself in this moment. He needs to stop being weird about this and remember what’s actually going on. He looks up at Timmy and tries to hold his gaze, breathes deeply when he's met with green eyes. He realizes he doesn't even know what he wants anymore. For Timmy to be healthy, but that's all he can think of. Everything else is white noise when he looks at Timmy, the lingering awkwardness of the moment stuck in his throat as he tries to figure out why he's taking wrong turns with everything he's saying. He wishes he was better at this, the comforting thing. It usually wasn't _this_ difficult for him. In fact, it usually came easily. "Sometimes you're the easiest person to read in the entire world and sometimes I feel completely out of my depth," he says quietly, surprising even himself.

Timmy looks up at him, too surprised to remember to be embarrassed. What did Armie mean with that? There's nothing to read into this, he doesn't _want_ Armie to be able to read what he really meant, what his brain was supplying. "Which is it right now?" Timmy asks, feeling a little breathless as he waits for Armie's answer. They know each other better than anyone else, had learned the language of each other's bodies only to discover it’s a different language across the Atlantic. Timmy knows what he means, remembers how he had seen an expression on Armie's face the first time they had met again and wasn't able to place it. It had been guarded in a way Armie had never been in Crema. Timmy supposes he isn't any different. It means protection but at what price?

"Out of my depth," Armie breathes out, shaking his head slightly, keeping his eyes on Timmy's. "I feel off balanced," he admits, shrugging to ease the burden of his sudden vulnerability. It only felt fair though, what with Timmy being vulnerable himself. "It's like you don't _want_ me to see you, and I guess I don't know what to do about it." There’s a budding spark in his chest the longer he lets himself stare, and to save himself from it, he looks at his hands in his lap. "But that's been the norm for awhile now, hasn't it?" He doesn't look up; he knows Timmy will just confuse him more if he can see the flickering of emotions he knows are sure to be there.

Armie's words take Timmy's breath away. Why is he saying all these things? Does he really want to know the truth? Suddenly Timmy feels bad for distancing himself, sees clearly the hurt he had inflicted on Armie with it. "I had to! I had to protect myself and you. I had to protect you, too. Everything was so different from Crema and it was _killing_ me. I had to do something. I couldn't go on like this." He confesses quickly, hopes he can make Armie understand that he didn't do it to hurt him.

Startled, Armie looks up. He hadn't really expected much of any response, let alone an outburst. He blinks, shakes the shock away, and tries to break down what Timmy's just said. "Protect...What do you _mean_, you had to protect— us?" He searches Timmy's face, sees the almost panicked sadness there in his eyes and wants nothing more than to strip it away. "And how does pulling away—" he stops, breath frozen in his lungs when it sinks in little by little. Everything was different from Crema. His shoulders slump and he feels his eyes slip shut as he realizes that maybe he'd seen Timmy struggling for more than one reason and had been too dense to notice the difference, the true culprit.

"I wanted the things that are different out here to sink into my head, too. So I had to do something. Armie, I dream about Crema so often. I keep looking for an experience like it or for a way to return to it but I _can't_." It's surprises Timmy how relieving it feels to just say these things that he had mostly been too scared to think. "I wasn't okay and I didn't want that to affect you. But— well, here we are." Timmy looks at the blank hospital room before focusing back on Armie. Now it's out there, he thinks. Whatever happens now is out of his hands.

Armie stares at his feet and breathes deeply while trying to choose his words. Timmy's giving him a lot right now, and he knows it's a step in the right direction considering their recent distance. He hates that a hospital trip got them here, but there's a sense of relief at finally having his honest-Timmy back.  
"You didn't even give me the chance to help," he says, glancing over at Timmy. "I invited you to stay with me because I didn't want you to be alone for this movie, Timmy. Of course it's different, everything about it is different, but I—" He takes a deep breath and shrugs, drops his eyes to Timmy's chest. "I'm still here." He's never had to be this honest and vulnerable with a friend before; then again, Timmy wasn't just a normal friend. He was hardly _just_ a friend at all.

Armie and his words keep fucking with Timmy's heart and his head and he knows he needs to be open about _that_, too. Now, that they are being this open with each other about things. "No, Armie. You aren't _with me_ in the same way and you need to stop saying it or implying it because it's honestly fucking with me. That's why I pulled away, I need clarity, I need— boundaries. Everything keeps bleeding into each other." Timmy sighs, looks down at his own lap, rubs his arm. "Maybe I shouldn't have stayed with you at all." He thinks aloud. Ever since he got to LA, the blurring of lines had gotten worse again, the dreams more vivid, the need to touch overwhelming.

Armie feels warm with his words, his chest suddenly tight. He searches Timmy's face but finds nothing there to slow the painful drum of his heart. Is he really surprised? Or is it more that he's surprised Timmy would admit this? Isn't this one of those things that they're not _supposed_ to talk about, that they were supposed to leave behind? In Crema, lines didn't matter; had he accidentally allowed a piece of that to slip into his actions now? He thinks about the days he would cook dinner in the kitchen and ask Timmy how he could alter whatever it was so Timmy could eat it, how he'd crowd his space and linger and tease him because it felt _good_ to have him there every day. Or the mornings he'd hug Timmy before he went to work, or the days he'd drive him so they could be alone and just talk, talk, talk like the old days. When Timmy started withdrawing, he felt an ache in his bones and told himself it was for the best. But now— now he looks at Timmy and sees that he'd been pushing them towards some cliff edge he had no intention of running off. "I'm so sorry," he breathes. "Fuck, I... Timmy, I don't know what to say."

Timmy chances a fleeting look at Armie but can't stand to hold his gaze long enough to read what his body is telling him. "You don't have to say anything, I guess. There's really nothing to be said. We just go back to how things were before I ended up here. It'll be safe, good for everyone." Timmy explains, his gaze wandering to the ceiling to hide more emotions. They can't afford to be so open around each other. It’s leading nowhere. He nods as if to enforce the decision, really just trying to convince himself he's doing the right thing. "I guess when you— when you did all these things, you weren't thinking about it. It wasn't a big deal to you. And it's not like it was to me. The things you did, I mean." Timmy pauses, tilts his head thoughtfully. "All of it together just... started to remind me too much."

_But I don't want to go back_, Armie thinks with a frown. Nothing about this feels real, everything sinking into him without really registering properly. He can't fathom Timmy not being in his life in the way he's always been there. It just doesn't make sense. And the truth is, he _did_ think about it when he acted more affectionate; it’s just, the thought was usually along the lines of how _lucky_ he felt to be able to express that with someone for once, not that he was crossing a line. How many times had he hurt Timmy without meaning to? Armie knows he owes it to Timmy to be as honest in this moment as he was allowing himself to be. He breathes out and shakes his head. "It was a big deal, it's always a big deal, Timmy," he mumbles. "I'm not like that with just anyone, it's not like I do it lightly." He can't look at him right now, everything feels heavy and he's afraid they're at a tipping point he can't come back from. "It reminds me of then, too, I just didn't... I didn't think that was a _bad_ thing."

Timmy’s eyes snap back to Armie’s face again, searching for proof that he’d just really said that. The words are squeezing Timmy’s chest and suddenly it’s hard to breathe. What do you say to that? What did _Armie_ expect him to say to that?  
“I miss it.” The confession rushes out of him before Timmy can stop it. “I miss it so much.”  
The truth is that he’d _liked_ how much living with Armie was like Crema until it had started to eat at him. He’d felt honoured how much time and care Armie put into housing him. No one had asked him to and Timmy had just come into the life he’d built in LA that was already complete without him. But Armie had found space for him, had made time to be with Timmy, _just_ Timmy, and now he’d just admitted that, yes, that meant _something_.

"I miss it, too," Armie nods, his palms splayed out on his thighs to stop from reaching out. "You know, the other night you came home and just went to bed... It felt like nothing ever happened and you were just some roommate or something and I hated that." He groans and pushes his hair back with his hands roughly. He doesn't want to face all of this right now, but he's afraid of Timmy slipping away if he's not careful. He _needs_ to be honest. "I should have realized I crossed a line but you _know_ this thing with us isn't something I've ever had and I don't know what I'm doing half the time. It was easier in Italy I guess, maybe I was trying to chase that again."

“This thing with us?” Timmy asks, voice as uncertain as he feels. “Armie, _what_ is this thing with us?” Armie says that he’d never had it but he’d had friends, has some still. And Timmy knows they are different. They’d never tried to define themselves but the uncertainty is doing more harm than good at this point. He needs something tangible, something that would tell them where the line is.

Armie looks at him, really looks, and understands that Timmy's barely holding his struggle back. With a sigh, Armie leans forward to press his elbows into his knees and cover his face. He's been careful not to dwell on this because it only make him confused, but he knows Timmy needs some sort of answer and he can't hide from him if he's asking Timmy not to hide as well. Nerves bubble up and he has to accept the prickly feeling. "I honestly don't know," he says. "But I think we both know you're not just my friend. I don't think you ever were."

The breath rushes out of Timmy and he feels breathless suddenly. Hearing it out loud from Armie, that he had a similar impression, is almost too much. So it’s true; he tries to take the fact in. Armie feels more for him than he should as well. But then... "How do you do it? How do you know where to draw the line? Between here and Italy? Sometimes when you would— it made me forget that we weren't supposed to be that way. That it isn't normal." He explains, looking once more for guidance from Armie. He never liked to hear it, but Timmy does admire him and does look up to him. And apparently he is dealing with this much better than Timmy is if he doesn't mind.

A sad smile forms on Armie's lips as he slowly shakes his head and sits up, his hands reaching back to rest on the bed, always mindful of where Timmy is. "Sometimes I _don't_ know," he admits. With a fleeting glance at Timmy, he adds, "It's not like it never affects me, but I think I justify it because... I don't _want_ normal. Everyone and everything else is fucking normal and..." His arms feel shaky. He isn’t sure where all this is coming from. "All I know is I like who I am when you're around. I try not to question it too much." _Because then I might have to stop, he thinks._

Of course it's okay for Armie, it's the only way it works for him. Timmy might think he wants more sometimes, but that isn't a possibility in Armie's world. If he took that step, it would mean losing his family who he also loves. So Timmy is just... Timmy for him. His a-little-more-than-friends friend. And shouldn't Timmy be grateful for that? Now that Armie acknowledged that it isn't just in Timmy's head, he'd gotten everything he could ask for. Hesitantly, he reaches out and puts his hand on top of Armie's. Maybe this would help, the clarity he has now, the knowledge that he isn't alone in this. Maybe it'll be better now and they could go on like before. Timmy wants that, more than anything he doesn't want to give up what they have. Luca once told him that his bond with Armie is incredibly rare and that he should treasure it and Timmy realises more and more how right he is with that.

The touch is light and it makes Armie sigh. His eyes get stuck on their hands and he only thinks for a moment before turning his hand over and connecting them, shifting so their fingers entwine. "I'm sorry I made things difficult for you. I can back off if that's what you need." He holds his breath, afraid of what Timmy might want. Armie knows this conversation isn't one he ever anticipated having, but it’s unavoidable now. Perhaps everything would change now that they’re saying these things out loud. He'd be lying if he said the prospect didn't scare him. He runs his thumb over Timmy's palm and bites his lip.

Armie has no right to look so enticing while they are having this conversation. Timmy sighs, looking down at their hands, a spark running up the nerves in his arm as Armie's thumb continues to draw circles there. "Don't." Timmy says softly, clears his throat, repeats. "Don't back off. Don't stop. I think— I want us to try and continue. Like we were. Maybe this talk helped. Knowing you feel this, too" Timmy squeezes his hand, "helps." He looks back up at Armie, tries to gauge his reaction to his proposal. He doesn't want to lose him.

Armie's heart beats faster. _Like we were_. He thinks he wants that, too. Or at least, he knows he doesn't want the alternative. The way Timmy's looking at him makes him nervous though. He doesn’t think they'll ever be the same; he senses some shift between them. But he's willing to try, to at least attempt to reset in light of what he now knows. Which is...  
Which is, there is something here, something that goes beyond friendship, that draws them together like a magnet and made Timmy kiss him out of relief upon seeing him, that made Armie run away from his family in terror at the mere thought of Timmy being hurt. He doesn't know what _this_ is that they feel, can't quite identify it in words, but he sees in Timmy's eyes that he's right. Knowing they're going through it together does help. "Okay, then I won’t back off. But you can't either. This is a two way street."

Timmy smiles, the first hesitant but true smile. "Okay, you won't get rid of me." There's something passing between them in this moment, this moment of tender relief, anticipation maybe. The rain has passed and now they can breathe clean air while the sun is shining upon them. They are Armie _and_ Timmy, together, stuck in their weird limbo.  
"So— uhm. I guess I’m stuck here overnight and you probably need to head home. You gonna pick me up tomorrow?" The prospect shouldn't feel this exciting but it feels like it means something _more_ now.

Armie can see the relief on Timmy's face and it makes him ache. He wishes he'd spoken up sooner, but he can’t worry about that now. "Yeah..." Armie clears his throat and squeezes Timmy's hand briefly before looking up at him, feeling shy suddenly. "I was actually thinking that um. You know. I could come back tonight. So you don’t have to be alone— I don't want you to be unless you want some space." He knows it doesn't mean anything if Timmy tells him to go, but he still has nerves in his chest. He knows he won’t sleep at all if he isn't here, though.

Timmy blinks, yet again taken by surprise by Armie. How does he still manage to do this after them knowing each other for so long? There's a light feeling settling in his chest, his limbs suddenly tingling. "Oh, I— yeah, I'd like that I guess." He bites his lip, feels coy and enjoys that. "Just make sure the kids get into bed first. Kiss them goodnight from me, okay?" Timmy asks him, hopes they wouldn't worry too much. Then again, they are young and people are constantly around them. Maybe they won't even notice.

Armie sighs a little in relief and nods. "Of course. I'll bring you some clothes and whatever else you want." The hand still holding Timmy's feels like a tether. He stares at it and breathe deeply. He doesn’t really want to leave at all, but knows he has to. His eyes trail up to meet Timmy's and he smiles softly as he pulls Timmy's hand into his lap to hold it with both of his, warming his fingers between his palms before lifting it to press a tentative kiss against his knuckles. His heart skips but it feels right. "I won’t be gone very long. I promise."

Timmy smiles and bites his lip. Butterflies have taken flight in his stomach with Armie's sweet gesture. "Okay. I'll count the seconds." It was supposed to come out funnier than it did, but Armie knows where they stand now so it should be okay regardless. They both still linger, evidence of how little they want this to be over. Timmy smiles, gets trapped in Armie's blue eyes that seem so soft and tender right now. He blushes slightly and looks away only to find his gaze still on him when he looks back up. What are they waiting for? The silence between them seems to crackle with the potential of the moment.

And logically, Armie knows he should just leave. Get up, walk out, take a deep breath. He can't explain _why_ he still sits there, Timmy's hand in his, everything hanging in the air between them. When he woke up this morning and said goodbye to Timmy without a hug before he left for work, he felt completely off. Now, he feels off for an entirely different reason, his mouth dry and hands starting to sweat just a little. "Okay," he mumbles, thinking he ought to say _something_, but the tension he feels tugging at his stomach doesn’t let up. He swallows and tries to stop his eyes from flicking down to Timmy's lips when he licks them, his eyes fluttering slightly instead. This is bad, he thinks. Or... is it really? Just because he knows this tug between them is mutual and complicated— that doesn’t mean moments like this are _bad_. It just means they'll happen. Which is okay. Because now Armie knows it's not just him making things weird. Still, Timmy's hand is in his and his eyes on him and he feels warm, quite warm, because the consequence of putting everything out there is realizing that there _is_ a charge here, it's not just in his head.

"Okay?" Timmy knows Armie feels what he is feeling, knows that he's just as unwilling to break the moment. It's intoxicating but something has to give, someone has to take a step. Timmy decides to make light of the situation, give Armie an easy out. Just because they have acknowledged how they feel, doesn't mean that he'll expect Armie to do more than he had already been doing. "What, aren't you gonna kiss me goodbye?" He teases, grins to make clear that he isn't serious. He nudges Armie's hand with his finger as if to poke a reaction out of him.

The words send a spark through Armie and he laughs awkwardly to cover it up. Finally, he lets out a breath and runs one of his hands through his hair with a growing grin at Timmy. "Maybe," he teases back, shifting to get up off the bed. He holds onto Timmy's hand though, keeps grinning at him and the way his body feels like it's being warmed and shocked at the same time. "I'd hate to leave you hanging. I'm pretty irresistible, I know," he shrugs, tugging at Timmy's hand a little as he tries to hide his butterflies and smirk. Maybe he likes this new dynamic. After all, it was just one more layer to their already complicated and playful relationship. He leans in slowly, fingers tugging Timmy's hand toward him to pull them closer just a little. Breathless and bold, he lets his butterflies stew for a moment. Here, he feels every spec of history between them. He sees the flecks in Timmy's eyes and knows he’s kissed lines along his body more than once, knows how it feels to have Timmy breathless beneath him. But that's not what this is, he doesn’t think. He smiles, breathes out, let's a nervous laugh bubble up, and pulls away to break the moment between them.

Timmy sighs, the adrenaline still rushing through his veins. This is new but he isn't going to point that out. He doesn't want it to stop. Not when it's clear that Armie wants this, too. It's more of the same dance along the line. But Timmy doesn't want Armie to just leave like that so he leans forward a bit further, takes his chin in his one hand, feeling the scruff there. Then he carefully yet innocently places a kiss on his cheek. "Alright, now you can go I think." He smiles and let's Armie's chin go, his hand brushing over his arm on his way down. They are sitting close now but it doesn't feel heated. Just intimate, the warmth between them making Timmy feel warm inside, completely chasing away the cold from earlier. Because he can, and because Armie is still sitting here, he bumps his forehead into his shoulder, searches some more contact before Armie has to leave.

Armie's heart tightens at the gestures, the innocence and the spark there under them. He can’t really help himself— he pulls Timmy into a hug with the overwhelming warmth he feels all over. One of his hands snakes up to tangle in Timmy's hair and he lets himself breathe deeply, Timmy's touch soothing and exhilarating. "I'm really glad you're okay," he whispers against his ear, eyes closing for a moment to let it all sink in. Walking away feels wrong, but he's prolonged this long enough. With a kiss to the side of Timmy's head, Armie pulls back and stands, takes one last look at Timmy, and turns to start leaving. "I'll be back. Don't miss me too much," he jokes, but there's more behind it now.

Timmy smiles, heart warm in his chest. “Never, old man. Bring me some good food and some nice clothes!” Timmy demands as Armie is halfway out of the door. “And kiss the kids!” He hears Armie’s answering chuckle before the door closes.  
Timmy lays back down in the sheets, feeling content and happy for the first time in awhile. It’ll be alright, Armie will be back soon. Before long the exhaustion of the day takes its toll on him and he nods off, feeling safer than ever.

Outside, a nurse is just passing by as Timmy shouts his demands, and shares a smile with Armie. Seeing couples support each other is one of the better parts of this job, she thinks to herself.

Armie nods at the nurse and smiles all the way to his car, before reality sinks in. For a moment, he just sits there and stares out the window. It had been an emotional day and he feels drained, wishes he had allowed himself to nap with Timmy earlier. God, he had been so scared. With a deep breath, he starts the car and drives home, remembering the look on Timmy's face when they were talking about how things were, what they wanted. Though they really just danced around it, Armie still felt a little lighter. He was worried Timmy hadn’t wanted him around when it was the opposite, and for that, he thinks there's a victory here.


	2. As much as you do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armie returns to the hospital after his short trip home. The tension grows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the second and last chapter. I hope you enjoy this one, too and I think I am not revealing too much when I say that this won't be the last collaboration that we have done. After all, this was always supposed to be just a little exercise.

When he pulls in the drive and locks the doors, he takes one last moment by himself before he'll be asked to explain what happened. The door opens and Harper skips out to him, a smile on his face already at the sight. "Shouldn't you be getting ready for bed?" he teases as he picks her up and swings her around with a kiss on her cheek, then another because of Timmy. "Hey," he nods towards the door where Elizabeth stands with Ford in her arms.

“Hey. How is he?” She asks, hoping nothing too terrible happened; then again she’d seen the look on her husband’s face— he’d been terrified and dropped everything. That meant Liz had to juggle both of the kids on a conference call with a brand. He does look much better now though so maybe it had turned out to be less of a big deal than they made it seem at first.

Armie walks inside with Harper before putting her down. He runs his hands over his hair and turns towards her. "He's okay, I guess. They're keeping him overnight to make sure he doesn't decline. I'm just grabbing some stuff and heading back out. I think he needs me, he's going through some shit. I'll help put the kids to bed, though," he says, reaching out for Ford. He kisses both of his cheeks and offers a tight smile to Elizabeth. He knows she cares about Timmy, but he also knows things between the three of them had been... odd lately. A consequence of Timmy withdrawing, he assumed.

“You’ll be coming back though, right?” she asks, crossing her arms in front of her chest now that they are empty. She feels unprotected suddenly. “He’s not a kid anymore and he’ll need the rest.” She tries not to sound too upset. To not be upset because there was nothing to be upset about really.

"Um... no," he says, walking the kids towards their rooms. He shifts his shoulders and obliges Harper when she wants to be picked up. By the time they've reached the top of the stairs, he knows she can't be pleased by the sound of her silence. He tells the kids to brush their teeth and turns to her. "This is one of those things I'm doing regardless of what you're going to say," he says quietly. "He has no one out here but me and he's in the hospital. I don't care if I sleep on the floor, I'm not making him go through this alone. Okay?" The kids come out and he checks their teeth before passing Ford to Elizabeth and taking Harper to her room to change.

“Where’s uncle Timmy?” Harper asks as she forces her arms through the sleeves of her PJs. Usually, he was back by now, entertaining her with stories and actually enthusiastically participating in her dance parties. It had been so much fun since he’d come to stay with them. All the other friends of her parents usually left while she was asleep. Timmy is the only one her dad ever had a sleepover with.

Armie sighs and helps her snuggle into bed. "Timmy isn't staying here tonight. He'll be back tomorrow, honey, don't worry. He told me to give you a big kiss though!" he says, attacking her cheeks with kisses and hopes she drops it. There's no need for her to worry when he's sure Timmy will be fine. "I'm going to see Timmy while you sleep, I'll make sure he's safe."

“Okay.” She says quietly, watching him with big eyes. She knows Timmy will be fine if her dad is going to protect him. One day she wants to be just like him and make the others feel safe around her. “Give him a kiss from me, too, yeah?” She makes him promise. “I know he’ll be safe if you are with him.”

Armie smiles and ruffles her hair. "You got it kiddo," he says, remembering the kiss on his cheek Timmy gave him before he left. He lets her snuggle closer to him and reads her a book, smiling softly when Elizabeth pokes her head in to say goodnight. Eventually, Harper starts dozing off and Armie kisses her head and sneaks out of the bed. He goes in to kiss Ford though he's already sleeping, and wanders to Timmy's room to gather some clothes.

Nick, who Liz had called to the rescue and who’d been working on the terrace comes upstairs now, leaning against the doorframe of Timmy’s room. And it is Timmy’s. “So, how’s everyone’s favourite New Yorker?” he asks. Liz had told him Armie had panicked but he knows better than to assume Timmy’s in serious danger because of that. Armie cares more than he’d ever admit.

"He's alright," Armie shrugs, sitting down on his bed. "Better now than when I showed up, that's for sure. He'll be fine but this damn movie—" he stops himself before ranting and takes a deep breath. "It was good to sit and talk with him, though. He's been busy lately," Armie shrugs again and reaches for a hoodie haphazardly thrown on the edge of the bed with a mental note to take it to him. "I'm headed back there actually."

Nick raises his eyebrows surprised. “Oh okay. Why? I mean if he’s better…” Lately, it had seemed like they had drifted more apart, but _this_ is the Armie-and-Timmy bond in full force again. “You’re going to spend the night there?” He asks curiously knowing that would cross a line even for them (not that they had ever cared about that).

"Well I'm not just going to leave him there alone," he says, suddenly feeling defensive. He starts gathering things: a shirt, a pair of sweatpants, hands pausing when he goes to grab a pair of boxers. He fights a blush and picks a black pair and some socks while saying, "It's not that weird. People stay at hospitals all the time, Nick." He reaches for a bag and stuffs the items in, tossing the hoodie in as well. "He passed out at work, man. He has no one else here. He's killing himself on this movie and if I can't stop him from doing damage then I can at least be there when he falls apart."

Nick hums. Timmy didn’t look good when Nick had seen him last, but the movie is probably just one reason why. “And you’re gonna be there to put him back together, I know. You don’t have to explain that to me. Just watch out for the part you are playing in this.” He reminds his friend. Armie is prone to ignoring his own wellbeing, especially for Timmy.

Armie resists the urge to groan— he isn't the one anyone should worry about. Still, he does understand Nick's concern. He could be a little blinded sometimes, case in point earlier when he didn't even say goodbye before leaving. "You know he's important to me, Nick. I just need to be there right now. I'll deal with my own shit later," he says with a deep sigh and a small smile. And it's true; he would have to deal with everything he's feeling sooner or later, but Timmy is still his priority and helping that relationship get back on track has to take precedence. The toll it takes on him is secondary. He needs Timmy. Plain and simple. "I'm assuming they'll release him tomorrow and he'll ignore me when I tell him not to go to set. But we'll be back by tomorrow night regardless. If you could just keep an eye around here if the kids need anything?"

Nick shrugs. "Sure. When do I ever not?" Nick doesn't mind too much. Most of his work is done from his laptop in their garden or living room at this point, one eye on the kids, the other on Archie. But he worries about Armie. This sounds so much like he's diving in head-first into something he has no control over. "Just be careful, okay? I want you to be happy and I know he makes you very happy but— just be careful. Both of your hearts are on the line here." Nick reminds him and hates that he has to. But he is also the one who usually has to pick up the mess afterwards so he does have a certain right to say these things.

Armie looks up at him steadily, wondering how much he senses, or even knows. "I know," he says, figuring denial isn't worth it when Nick has that sure-of-himself look in his eyes. He can’t really offer anything else though, because if he's honest, the time to be careful with their hearts was hours ago, before he decided to tell Timmy he wasn’t just a friend. He squeezes Nick's shoulder when he passes to go grab Timmy's toothbrush from the bathroom and heads into his bedroom without another word. There, he stuffs in some stuff for himself.  
"So you're really just going?" he hears Elizabeth say.  
"Yep." She sighs but doesn’t fight him, gives him an awkward hug before returning to the living room to her laptop. With that, he doesn’t seem much reason to put off leaving any longer. He grabs something quick to eat and heads out.

Timmy is woken by the nurse bringing him dinner. It doesn't look appetizing, especially since he had been spoiled by Armie's cooking, but she tells him it's focused on getting him back on his feet and not on tasting good so he begrudgingly accepts that and starts to halfheartedly shovel the food into his body, all while continuing to glance at the clock. When could he expect Armie to be back? He’s probably going to eat dinner and tuck the kids in, then packing his bag, fighting his way through LA traffic. Timmy sighs realising it would take him longer than this and Timmy wants him back quite desperately. Is he being too clingy again?

By the time Armie makes it back to the hospital, it feels like lifetimes have passed since this morning. He waves at the nurses as he enters and heads straight for Timmy's room, pausing outside when he sees an unfamiliar one leaving with what he assumes was Timmy's dinner. "How is he?" he asks, gesturing to Timmy's room. "Is he awake?" The nurse looks him over, recognition flashing in his eyes.  
"Oh right. Okay, yeah they said you would probably be back. He's fine, grumpy because we made him eat but," the guy shrugs. "He's been completely fine. He'll probably have a consult in the morning to make sure." Armie nods and processes that before thanking him and walking into Timmy's room.  
"Hey stranger," he says fondly when he sees his messy bedhead. " Brought you some clothes," he adds, tossing the bag onto the bed as he tries to calm the sudden butterflies in his chest.

“Hey yourself. I hope you picked an outfit and not just some clothes.” Timmy teases. “Did you bring some real food? They made me eat this disgusting stuff and I am not used to that anymore.” Timmy doesn’t dare to gesture for him to move closer but he hopes he will. Already, he craves his comfort again and wonders how he could ever have given that up.

Armie scratches the back of his neck and walks over towards the bed, lingering at the edge with his fingertips resting on top of the safety bar. "Sorry, you're supposed to eat their food. I'll make you anything you want when you come home." Timmy seems better, he thinks. More alert, definitely more color in his cheeks. With a glance around the room, Armie already feels as though he's waited long enough to be next to Timmy, to comfort him again. A part of him wonders if Timmy really _needs_ him, but he quiets it because he knows Timmy would accept him and any gesture he wanted to make in this moment. He moves around to the side of the bed and sits down with a pat of his hand against Timmy's thigh. It lingers as he wraps his fingers around over the cloth of blankets. "You look a little better. Are they postponing the shoot for you to recover?"

Timmy shrugs. He hadn't heard back from anyone but he also hadn't checked his phone. He's not even sure where it is. He looks around and sees it lie on the nightstand. "Uh, let me check." He picks it up but it's dead. "Well, I guess I am unreachable for now. They might try to reach you. I doubt we have much chance to postpone though." Timmy puts his phone back. "It's not like I’m out for long. They said I could probably go tomorrow." He points out. He hates thinking about hindering the shooting process. After all, they don't have a huge budget to begin with and Felix is demanding.

Armie nods and glances at the bag and reaches for it and pulls out Timmy's charger. "Thought you might want it," he mumbles, standing to plug it (and Timmy's phone) in. When he sits back on Timmy's bed, he runs his hand over Timmy’s hair, lingering for a moment before returning his hand to his lap with a twist of his body to better face Timmy. "Don't let them push you so hard. It's not worth another trip here." He searches Timmy's face to see if he's being heard or just listened to. It may not matter. "Plus, if they give you a day off then we can hang out." He knows Timmy has no control over his schedule, but it's nice to think about nevertheless.

Timmy sighs. He knows Armie worries and the offer of hanging out with him sounds great but this movie seems important and Timmy signed onto this project for a reason. "We'll find time to hang out anyway. You know that this matters to me." He explains. Armie seems uncharacteristically shy and Timmy wonders why. "Let's not fight about that right now. Tell me how it went. You were back really quickly." He has no energy to argue right now anyway and really, he never wants to fight with Armie.

"No, I know, I know," Armie sighs and smiles at Timmy, trying to push his concern away. "It was fine. Nick was there so it was easy." His eyes drift over Timmy's face, noticing all the freckles and the little scar he always loved. "Harper was worried," he says softly, hand going to Timmy's knee with a gentle squeeze. They're still the same, but something feels different. A shift in the gravity, Armie thinks. It's not unpleasant, just a little bit disarming to know there's less unsaid between them now. "She wanted to know why you weren't home. I told her you would come back soon, though."

Timmy smiles, Harper's worry making him feel loved. "Good, I don't want her to worry about me." He looks down at his hands, overly aware of Armie's hand on his knee. How do they proceed from here? What are the rules? Can he ask for a hug? What is Armie going to do when Timmy inevitably falls asleep? He looks up to see what Armie is doing but finds his eyes on his face. It makes his cheeks heat up and he smiles shyly. They usually aren't like this, it's usually effortless and easy but the admissions hang between them with more uncertainty. "So uh, where are you going to sleep?" Timmy asks to start a conversation.

Armie blinks a few times and shrugs. "I um... I guess I can ask for a cot or something." He remembers using one once in a hotel. "Or that chair," he gestures towards the rollaway recliner in the corner. He slept in one when Harper was born, memories flooding him of a sleepless night. He doesn’t know if he would even be allowed to sleep in Timmy's bed with him, let alone if Timmy would even want that. It barely fit them earlier, he doesn't think it would be allowed. Still, he wants to be near him. "I'll be fine, I just wanted to be here. Doesn't matter where I sleep."

"It matters to me." Timmy points out. "You are not sleeping in that chair. If they don't give you a cot, we can share, right? We did earlier." He's not sure if that's something Armie would like but he can still get the cot. Or go home. He doesn't want to force Armie to stay of course but now that he's here... Timmy reaches out and snatches Armie's hand with his own, pretending like it's the first time he's seeing it up close. He turns it over and runs his fingers over the lines of his palm. He loves the details, the lines of his palm, the crinkles around his eyes when he smiles and laughs, the twinkle in his eyes when he talks about something he's passionate about. And he loves it all put together as well.

Armie watches his examination of his hand with a small smile tugging at his lips. Timmy's touch is light, careful as if he's precious; Armie's heart skips at the thought. "If they'll let me, yes," he says, still entranced by Timmy's actions. He wasn't sure he would be welcome or if it would be too much to share the bed. But it had felt nice earlier to have his arms around Timmy. It felt safer somehow, as if he could cocoon them from everything outside their four walls. He turns his hand over in Timmy's and runs it up his wrist, his forearm, his fingers gently wrapping around. "I missed you. This."

"Me, too." Timmy says quietly. Armie's fingers are so long they can fully wrap around his forearm. He wants that, too, to be fully wrapped up in Armie, have him all around. And he wants to be the same for Armie, wants to be his living safe, his pick-me-up and love-me-always. Timmy stares at their forearms resting together. "This reminds me of some movie or show. Where they wrapped a ribbon around their forearms in a wedding ceremony to symbolise that they are together from now on." He muses and thinks how their lives are entwined, how he feels inevitably drawn to Armie, always.

Armie's breath stutters. He watches Timmy as he stares at their arms, watches the way his eyelashes splash across his cheekbones and how his tongue darts out to wet his lips. "I think I've had enough of marriage." He startles himself with the confession— was that what it was? He swallows hard but doesn't pull away from Timmy. The words hang in the air as he stares at his hand, afraid to look back into Timmy's eyes. "Companionship though..." he starts to ramble. "Commitment of the heart isn't always official." _Shut up!_ the voice in the back of his mind seems to be screaming. His voice is low and almost uncontrolled. Somehow he fell into this space with Timmy where he can't seem to filter himself. It should put him off more than it does. His mouth is dry.

Timmy barely stops himself from gaping. That's— _a lot_. He blinks, tries to shake off his stupor. He takes a deep breath, tries to take in everything that Armie said. _Commitment of the heart_. Timmy's heart starts racing. Is he saying— Is that what he means? He looks up at Armie, eyes wide in shock. "Armie." He gasps softly. "I— you—" How can he answer to that? His head is spinning. _Commitment of the heart isn't always official_. Timmy knows for sure he has never spoken of where his belongs, although it knows. "Us?" He asks, his fingers digging into the skin of Armie's forearm.

Armie can’t look up, can't breathe. He shrugs, almost panic-ridden nerves seep in at the same time adrenaline shoots through his veins. He can see Timmy's breathing speed up out of his peripherals and the slight pressure of Timmy's fingers on his skin makes him burn. "I— I didn't uh," he swallows. Breathes. This isn't like him. He's confident. Loud. _Sure_. Not _this_. "You don't fit in a box, I don't... I don't know," he settles on when he finally feels like his voice will work. His thumb runs over the skin just below Timmy's elbow and he shudders out a breath, daring to glance up quickly before he lets his gaze wander to the side of the bed.

Timmy knows that Armie is saying everything and nothing right now. They had said this before, earlier, we aren't _just friends_. But this is different, it's... _cor cordium_. "I never have. I don't like boxes, to be honest." He watches Armie's face closely for a reaction. This matters, more than anything. Somehow they are already walking along the edge again, so many confessions spilling out of hearts. "I don't think I can be contained." How far can he go? How long until Armie stops him? And how long until he moves closer, presses his lips to Timmy's because he _wants_ to? Aside from the accidental kiss earlier today, it had been a year since they kissed for real and Timmy can't help but feel starved for the taste of his lips. The real thing, not the hazy things his brain tries to convince him is the real deal.

"No, I don't think you can either," Armie chuckles softly, grateful for the slight release of tension he feels. But then he looks up at Timmy and the air whooshes out again as a deep tug from the center of his abdomen starts to gain force. He swallows and feels every inch of their arms that touch, every inch that doesn't. "I wouldn't want you to, anyway," he mumbles. "Be contained. It's suffocating." Reflexively, his fingers twitch and tighten just slightly around Timmy's arm. He thinks absentmindedly that he wishes he could smoke here, even just a cigarette to take the edge off. Not for the first time today, he feels the urge to lean in and soak up anything Timmy has to offer. But right now, they're okay. Would they survive that line being crossed, Armie wonders? Did he _want_ that line crossed, or could he really say that he would be content in the in-between with Timmy forever?

Timmy swallows. His whole body is aching to be touched by Armie. Having him there, almost admitting, almost giving in, almost kills Timmy. He needs to move, do something. The nervous energy is tingling in his fingertips. He bites his lip, remembers that being honest is a new thing they do now, that suffering in silence hasn't worked for them. He cannot ask him to kiss though. That would very clearly belong to one side of the line. But he needs to have him close, closer anyway. "Uhm, Armie— I really wanna hug you right now. Would that— would that be okay?"

It's so innocent that it makes Armie's lips curl up. "Yeah," he whispers, shifting so his leg is bent under him but on the bed, Timmy's body moving to accommodate him. His hand on Timmy's arm slips off in the process and he reaches for him again, hating the lost contact immediately. It's awkward while they get adjusted but Armie caves and pulls Timmy so close that he's practically in his lap, Armie sliding his hands around his body slowly to keep him there. His heart is racing in a breathless kind of way, his chest tight.

Timmy’s breath rushes out of him. Armie’s proximity seems to weigh on his chest but in a good way. It’s exhilarating to be able to press his nose into the fabric of his shirt, feel its texture between his fingers. _This is where I belong_. He wiggles a little closer, makes sure he’s as close as possible. He could stay here for the rest of his life, Armie’s arms wrapped around him, the scent of his skin in his nose.

Armie let's him because it's intoxicating to feel so much of him at once. The gown is thin and the back doesn’t seem to completely close right so, try as he might, Armie can’t seem to avoid his hands slipping through the cracks and meeting the skin of Timmy's back. He hesitates for a moment before shuddering and allowing his hands to press against him. His eyes slip closed, the scent of Timmy's shampoo wafting over him as he rests his head against him. Nothing could slow his heart, and he wonders if Timmy was as bad off, if his heart rate monitor would catalog this for the record. He almost hopes it does, to leave some tangible mark of this moment. His fingers sink in a little to the skin but he feels Timmy's ribs too easily and it reminds him of Crema, of gripping him as he balanced on the tops of Armie's feet as he wobbled.

Armie’s fingertips on his skin brings him to life, make him light up inside. Timmy’s fingers bunch up the fabric of Armie’s shirt as he tries to hold on while everything inside of him is spinning. His heart is beating out of his chest and he’s eternally grateful that the heart monitor is muted and doesn’t give him away. He closes his eyes, focuses on the minimal movements of Armie’s fingers.  
The door to the hospital room flies open. “Mr. Chalamet— _oh_.” Timmy immediately opens his eyes and pulls back.  
A blushing nurse is standing in the doorway. “Uh, Sorry. We just— had a warning from your heart monitor and— yeah, well. Sorry for interrupting.” With a red face she retreats and Timmy feels how hot his own face is, knows that he must be blushing as well. “Uh, fuck.” Timmy groans and hides his face behind his hands.

Armie blushes at the interruption but can’t stop the smirk on his lips when he realizes how affected Timmy must be for it to happen. Sure enough, he glances at the monitor and sees it going crazy. Something about Timmy's reaction makes it impossible to stop grinning and he can’t explain why. Maybe it's just confirmation that the physical reaction Armie felt wasn’t one sided. He reaches for Timmy's hands and pries them away from his face with a soft laugh. Experimentally, he runs his fingers down the side of Timmy's neck and watches his heart rate jump on the little monitor. A surge of _something_ rushes through him and he feels breathless and flushed when he turns back to look at Timmy. "I'm just as bad off," he confesses, his own heart still painfully beating away in his chest, loud in his ears.

Timmy blinks, cheeks still hot from embarrassment. He can’t believe Armie is feeling as shaken by his proximity. Either way it’s unfair that Timmy can’t hide it but then again he’d always been the one to offer up his emotions. And he’d always pried them out of Armie. He reaches out and places his hand on Armie’s rib cage, feels his heart faintly beat but he can tell it’s fast. “Yeah, okay.” Timmy admits begrudgingly. “Maybe we are both in this.”

When Timmy's hand doesn’t drop, Armie covers it with his own. Holds it against his beating heart as he tries to keep Timmy's gaze. "We are," he nods, oddly content to allow himself to be exposed in this way. "You've always made my heart race, though. Ever since my third day in Crema, remember, you took me exploring after your lessons? I remember it hit me, what we would go through together, and my heart just _raced_. I knew we had to find a way to be. Physical. For the roles. I don't think I stopped thinking about kissing you until it happened. Well, then I guess I kept thinking about it," he mumbles, fingers firm against Timmy's hand to show him he means it, the beat of his heart proof of his sincerity. "I've never told anyone that. Not even Luca."

Timmy stares at their hands, Armie's fingers resting between his own and tries to take that in. "Are you thinking about it right now?" he asks feeling breathless, searching for Armie's eyes. His answer could change them forever, could tip them over yet another line. Or Timmy’s question might make Armie withdraw but now it's out there and Timmy has to wait for his answer. He starts regretting it as the answer just won't come, thinks about how to backpedal, knows he is bound to babble his way out of it if he opens his mouth.

Armie feels it too, the precipice they stand upon in this moment. Absentmindedly, his hand tightens around Timmy's. He doesn't trust his voice but knows he can't abandon Timmy now and hide away. He takes a deep breath. "Yes," he confesses, because it's true, because he's been thinking about how earlier he didn’t know he would get to kiss Timmy and felt as though he had lost an opportunity, because Timmy is close enough that he can see the little bit of stubble on his face and lines of his lips. Because he _wants to_, if he's being really honest with himself.

Timmy holds his breath, their gazes locked. Where do they go from here? Now that he knows his lips are on Armie’s mind? His honesty is absolutely disarming and Timmy feels the urge to share his own thoughts, feels safe enough to bare his own desires to him. “I have to tell you something. Earlier, in my dream. Before everything was on fire, we— uh we were making out.” He confesses. “It’s always just us, being happy and kissing sort of fits naturally in those dreams.”

Armie's eyebrows lift slightly, his eyes flicking down to Timmy's lips before he can stop himself. "Oh," he says simply. He had suspected, or perhaps _hoped_, but hearing it in plain speech is different. "So when you kissed me—" he starts, trails off, and nods slowly. Armie's chest feels like it's on fire— perhaps Timmy's dream wasn't far off at all. He remembers suddenly Timmy clinging to him, shifting in his sleep. The sighs he breathed out against Armie. He remembers the ease with which Timmy kissed him when he woke up. It makes sense when he thinks about it, makes perfect sense. It was the easiest thing in the world to Timmy because he had just been there, in Armie's embrace, kissing him... just in a dream. Yes, burning would be an excellent descriptor for what he feels, he thinks. He swallows hard but his mouth is dry. Timmy's hand on his chest feels like a brand but he can't bring himself to pull away. They walked so many lines so many times, but this is deliberate and for that, he feels different to Armie. His hand slides down to wrap around Timmy's wrist, can't quite help the way he tightens his grip and let's his fingers overlap. "Do you dream of me often?" he asks quietly.

“What if I do?” Timmy asks breathlessly. He can feel the tight grip around his wrist, wonders if Armie is going to pull him in like that or if he’s holding him away. His eyes flicker to Armie’s lips and he reflexively wets his own, thinking about earlier and how it wasn’t nearly enough. “Would you like that?” He whispers. There’s no reason to be loud when they are so finely tuned into each other. “I just— can’t control my subconscious.” And he tried, he would know.

"I like knowing you think about me," Armie admits, voice low to match Timmy's. He sees his eyes shift and feels that tug all over his body to pull Timmy closer and feel him. He stops wondering if this is okay; it feels inevitable now with the sparks and the thick air surrounding them in this bubble they've somehow created. Whether or not it is okay to cross this line seems like a formality at this point. He would— he knows himself well enough to know he isn't strong enough to stop this. And he doesn't want to. As his thumb runs over Timmy's wrist and feels the slightly raised lines of his bones, he craves everything all at once, the suddenness of it all taking his breath away. He wets his lips, feels his body buzz with energy. Slowly, his free hand reaches out and brushes against Timmy's leg and runs up to his knee. One of these days he won't feel so breathless being able to touch without fear.

Timmy's eyes flicker from his mouth, to his hand on his wrist, to the hand on his knee back to his face. "I think about you a lot." Timmy admits. The tension in the air seems to paralyse him as he watches Armie's hand wander closer. Following an impulse, he catches it. "Close your eyes, Armie." Maybe this will make it easier for Armie to deny it ever happened. Timmy doesn't care, as long as it brings their lips together. He can see how Armie's are glistening from the spit his tongue had spread over them. And he needs to feel that with his own. He scoots forward although it's complicated with all the machinery attached to him. Then, carefully like he might break at any second, he cradles Armie's face between his hands, tilts his head down slightly, takes a second to admire it. Armie's eyelashes have always fascinated him, much longer than anyone would expect for a man. Somehow it fits him perfectly, despite his overall very masculine build. While Timmy knows and plays on his androgynous looks, Armie is man through and through. The little imperfections only make him more perfect. Carefully, he places a kiss on one eyelid then another.

Armie's chest heaves with each breath in anticipation, his body reacting without Timmy even really doing anything. He doesn't know what to do with his hands now that they're empty so he settles them in his lap. "Tim," he breathes out, tilting his head slightly upwards towards what he wants. He could think about it later, all the reasons this might not be a good idea. But he knows he won't regret it, so he stays firm, swallows when he feels Timmy's hands soften slightly against his face while his breath fans over Armie's lips, and let's his hands move to loosely wrap around Timmy's wrists to keep him right where he is. Their forearms rest against each other, an unbearably innocent yet intimate gesture that intoxicates Armie as he tilts his head once more to brush his nose against Timmy's gently, let's his lips wander to the jut of Timmy's chin for a chaste kiss, in part because he's verging on desperation, in part because he wants Timmy to know he's okay with this. With a breath, he brushes his lips against Timmy's.

And then, suddenly, even though it isn't sudden at all, they are kissing. It's like relearning how to breathe. Timmy forces himself to wait, to be patient and take everything in because he knows before long this experience is going to be over. So he lets himself be kissed, lets Armie guide him through this. More than anything it is a sign of how much he trusts him, how much he wants _him_ and not just a kiss. Their lips come apart for a split second, both of them drawing in air before falling back together, inevitable like the end of times. And it's so good and it's so gentle, Timmy can feel his emotions almost get the best of him.

Armie lets his hands drift to Timmy's hair and neck, pulls him a little closer with a shuddering sigh. It's nothing like he remembered, yet completely familiar, as if he had done this in a thousand lifetimes with a thousand versions of Timmy, and this was merely the first in this timeline. He thumbs at Timmy's cheekbone and remembers his eagerness when they filmed, foreign now from this moment when time seems to not only stand still, but cease to exist. A low rumble fills his chest, his fingers slipping through the strands of Timmy's hair with something akin to urgency, needing to ground himself in the reality that is, Timmy. This time when he pulls back for air, he rests his forehead against Timmy's, feeling as though he'll disappear if he loses touch now.

Timmy's feels Armie's rushed breaths meeting his own in the narrow space between their faces. He doesn't open his eyes, unwilling to lessen the sensations of feeling and acknowledge space outside of Armie exists. His hands slip from Armie's face, taking his hands with them and catching them. He intertwines their fingers, searches for stability in this world that Armie just changed forever. There is no illusion as to what they are doing. They said, "we aren't just friends," and now they kissed. It's a natural process and yet not at all what they are allowed to do.

It's almost a relief to have crossed the line for Armie. It's as if putting it all out there in plain sight has freed him from the space he typically hides behind. He swallows and licks his lips, smiles faintly when his tongue accidentally darts over Timmy's lips as well with their proximity, and chases the touch with a faint kiss before looking down at their hands. He's warm and content, though under it there is a slight fear that things will have to change now. He takes a deep breath. "I've wanted to do that for awhile," he tells Timmy. "I didn't think... I didn't think I'd get to again." And it's true— ever since Timmy moved in, even temporarily, it had become harder for Armie to conceptualize _not_ being with Timmy. They were together when he was home, they cooked together, did laundry together sometimes. Went grocery shopping, stayed up late, acted as sounding board and confidant. In so many ways, they were already together. The missing piece felt out of Armie's reach, but now he starts to think it could happen for real.

Timmy blinks his eyes open, crossing them almost since Armie is so close. "Me, too." He admits although he suspects that Armie knows. This is all happening because Timmy spiraled, after all. He had lost control so much that he had landed here. Here being the hospital bed they are still sitting on. The day crashes over him all at once then. How he had left Armie's home this morning without so much as a goodbye and how they had done takes over and over again, how the coldness in his chest had seemed to grow until it had swallowed him whole and how now there is nothing but warmth that seeps into him from Armie. He steals another kiss, short but firm, making sure he really isn't imagining this all. And making sure that, should Armie decide to end this right now, Timmy had his fill before. Timmy knows without a doubt he would let Armie do anything just to stay in his life. Where others might make demands, might push him to choose, Timmy knows he would be the second choice, the a-little-more-than-friends friend forever. "You can have me, if you want." He mumbles, his thumb stroking Armie's hand. He means right now and always, whenever he wants. Because Timmy has long since given up the hope that his life isn't centered around Armie. He will always come if called.

Armie sighs and looks at Timmy, his heart aching at the words. There's power to the vulnerability Timmy shows and Armie knows it. This had always been the way they were-- Timmy vulnerable, exposed almost, and Armie carefully peeling back his insecurities to let Timmy see pieces at a time. There were rare moments when everything fell away, though, moments when Armie could go of everything and just be a complete version of himself, no walls. They were rare, and as he stares at Timmy, he feels like it won't ever be enough. "You wouldn't really want me," Armie mumbles, sad smile on his face. "Your life would be so complicated. I can't ask you to--" he struggles to find words. "To hide... and wait... that's not fair." He settles on, unsure if Timmy could understand what he means, but hoping he does.

Timmy smiles but it's a little bitter. Armie doesn't understand but he hadn't expected him to get it. More than anything Armie has trouble to accept love. "You don't understand. I don't care whether you ask me to do anything. It is a fact that you can have me. You simply have to decide whether you want me. Don't consider the consequences it would have for me and only listen to yourself. What is your gut telling you, Armie?" He instructs him, knows that this is difficult for him. He always struggles to acknowledge that he deserves things. And he deserves so much more than life has been giving him.

Armie shakes his head slightly, his eyes blinking closed a few times. He searches for words, feels his chest and throat constrict. Despite his recklessness, his usual brash decision making patterns, he finds it difficult to not consider consequences here. Because this isn't just him, this is Timmy, and somehow that makes all the difference. So, what does he want?  
He eyes the slightly uneven curve of Timmy's lips, the freckles dotting his face. He sees certainty in Timmy's eyes and knows that he still has so much to learn from him, even though it ought to be the other way around. A soft breath leaves his lips and he feels the phantom pressure of Timmy's; lifting a fingertip to brush over his lips, he shakes his head once more. He could be bold and brave and unaware of others any day with anyone else. But Timmy has always pushed him outside of his bravado and into his green eyes of honesty and acceptance. What he wants, is to never lose the way Timmy sees him, understands him, pushes him. He sinks forward, his head coming to rest against Timmy's shoulder, a hand lifting to the side of Timmy's neck for stability.  
He could be selfish with anyone but Timmy. And perhaps that scares him the most, the stripping away of what he's always known to fall back on. He doesn't know how to let Timmy love him, not because he doesn't want him to, or doesn't accept it, but because it's the one thing he's afraid to want for himself. "I'm here, aren't I?" he whispers, lip trembling.

Timmy lets out a breath he hadn't even known he had been holding. So he has him, in pieces and not for himself but he has him and that's all that matters. "Yes, you are. And I wouldn't have it any other way." Timmy kisses his cheek, then rests his head against Armie's. Armie's words had calmed the storm inside of him and he feels more at ease now. He has his place and Armie is at his side. Timmy never had a hard time getting along with people, eventually he had always found his crowd but he had never felt as connected with anyone as with Armie. And there is something in his gut telling him to savour this connection. Maybe it's fate. "Share the bed with me tonight. I want to hold you." He whispers, his fingers catching Armie's shirt and playing with the fabric idly.

"Okay,"Armie nods, knowing that fighting Timmy on this would be pointless. He could easily wear him down and Armie feels just vulnerable enough to know it would work without much effort. He can't make any promises, and he hates himself for it. He reaches for the bag he brought and heaves out a sigh at losing Timmy's touch with the movement. He opens it and pulls out some clothes to change into, his eyes drifting back to Timmy. There's something there in his eyes that Armie doesn't think he's ever seen before. It's almost as if he's at peace, and suddenly things click into place.  
Armie looks at him and knows he can promise him some things. That he will always be there, that he will be his biggest fan, that he would be there when Timmy wakes up. He can promise that he will always mean the words I love you, and will do anything he can to make sure Timmy is safe. To be at least part of the reason Timmy gets that look in his eyes. He glances down at the joggers and faded shirt he brought to sleep in and shifts his gaze back up at Timmy. "I'm going to change..." he mumbles, lingering for a long moment to stop this moment from slipping away

Timmy glances down at the clothes in Armie’s hands and back up. He sees the hesitance written all over his face and knows why it’s there. But he decides to make light of the situation, a sense of certainty settling over him that wasn’t there before. “You’re not getting shy on me now, are you?” He teases and then leans a little forward, lowers his voice a little. “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.” Despite their circumstances they found this feeling that ties them together and Timmy is grateful for that, knows Armie is as well. It’s nothing to be wasted, not in this complicated, quickly spinning and lonely world.

A slow smile grows on Armie's lips, his heart skipping a little at the teasing. This was familiar territory for them and something about the connection to their new normal helps stabilize Armie. "Oh, I know," he says, standing and shucking his shoes off by the bed. With a pointed glance at Timmy and his confidence returning, he pulls his shirt over his head in one fluid movement. "I remember you staring an awful lot," he quirks an eyebrow at Timmy, reaching for his t-shirt on the bed and working it over his arms and head until he's smoothing it down and reaching for the zipper of his jeans. He's changed in front of Timmy many times before, and worried this would feel different now. And, to be fair, it did... but in a way that was kind of exhilarating. They still had all their lightness, it was just supplemented with so much more substance now that it felt incredibly whole. He yanks his jeans down and folds them, turning his back to Timmy in the process. Maybe he does it on purpose, but he wants to make sure the levity stays there between them to keep them from drowning completely in their hearts. He's slow to pull his joggers on, puts on a bit of a show because that's exactly what he would have done a week ago just to get a laugh out of Timmy. The fact that he knows it affects him now only adds a layer to it.

Timmy grins as he watches Armie. He appreciates that he makes an effort to keep the levity. In this, he can see clearly see their friendship and how easily it entwines with their new relationship. It takes his breath away a little. The difference is that Timmy leans over the edge of the bed, holding himself up with one arm while he lifts Armie's shirt with his other hand. The fabric exposes the jut of his hip bone. It's much paler than the bronze tone that his skin usually has but Timmy loves that, too, so he presses his lips to that patch of skin, loving and teasing. And again. "Mmhh. Can you blame me though?" He asks and looks up to where Armie is staring down at him.

Armie burns where Timmy kisses, but he craves more. He runs his hand through Timmy's hair, eyes a little hazy as he tugs at it playfully. This felt easier, more natural, a little less overwhelming to admit feelings here through playful gestures than in honest words. "Careful, don't want a nurse coming in for your erratic heart rate again," he teases, though it's really him whose heart can't seem to be tamed at the sight of Timmy lingering. He scratches at his scalp lightly and uses his hand to tilt Timmy's head back as he crowds his space, leaning down to kiss his jaw before standing back up and trying to reign in the way he feels around Timmy right now.

Timmy, who had closed his eyes, remains in that position for a long moment, his head tilted back and his mind soaking up the sensation. He knows Armie can't be much better off with the way he had felt his heart beat out of his chest earlier. The thought makes him smirk and he opens his eyes. Something about Armie looks different, the set of his shoulder and the glint of his eyes new but Timmy likes this look on him. "Well, I think she was embarrassed enough that she isn't going to come back." He points out and bites his lip. "Now, may I invite you into my humble abode?" Timmy lies back and lifts the corner of the blanket. He can't wait to have Armie around him again, to soak in his scent and tease him about something stupid. That's how he wants to grow old one day.

Armie chuckles and moves the bag to a chair and flips off the main room lights, leaving the one Timmy can reach on, before rounding the corner of the bed. "Since you asked nicely," he says as he slips under the covers. It's not big enough for the both of them, not really, which just means Armie has to snuggle up against Timmy, pulling him against his chest so they're spooning. The room is suddenly much quieter than he remembers with just their breathing to keep them company. Timmy's practically bare with the hospital gown covering him and Armie is too aware when Timmy settles and shifts around on the bed to get comfortable, reminds himself why they're in a hospital in the first place, that his mind has no right to wander down that path right now. He tries to pull his focus away from all the bare skin he knows is against his clothed body and instead focuses on Timmy's heart beat under his hand when he moves it to cover his chest. "Better?" he asks, feeling a smile pull at his lips.

"Mmmh. Much." Timmy hums contently. He feels the day's exhaustion in his bones still and he's surprised he stayed strong for so long. "This is good." In Armie's arms he feels safer than anywhere else and he hopes Armie feels it as well. "Promise me you are going to sleep as well." He knows Armie has a hard time to sleep in general but he needs him to relax when he's with him and not worry too much. His hand settles over Armie's on his chest and entwines their fingers.

Armie nuzzles against the nape of his neck and breathes deeply. "I will," he mumbles, already sinking into some sense of ease with Timmy, feeding off of whatever energy he seems to be giving off. He doesn't feel the need to count backwards or anything-- sleep creeps up on him gradually and effortlessly. Moments before he drifts off, he feels Timmy go slack in his embrace and the comfort of knowing he is there, safe and in Armie's embrace, lulls him to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it! Thank you all so much for your support with this little story.
> 
> Find us on Tumblr for additional updates or to come chat:  
Linds: [lookingforatardis](https://lookingforatardis.tumblr.com/)  
Nici: [charmie-inspiration](https://charmie-inspiration.tumblr.com/)

**Author's Note:**

> Find us on Tumblr for additional updates or to come chat:  
Linds: [lookingforatardis](https://lookingforatardis.tumblr.com/)  
Nici: [charmie-inspiration](https://charmie-inspiration.tumblr.com/)


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